remember
when music was
pure & uncut,
when we were all users
trying to survive?

addicted to
the crack-le of
the needle
as it hit the 45?

back when the
natural high of
heart & soul
was enough to suffice?

we’re just
some junkies
looking to score

excuse me mister,
could you spare a dime?

To those long days, shot
To little sun rays, another shot
To days gone wrong, a glass
To cheery and sad songs, another
A drink to all occasions
All it takes is a little persuasion
Hope you bring a coaster
Because these drinks are a rollercoaster
-SS

In a world where the virtual self precedes over the actual,
the middle ground is where your darkest secrets rest,
Near the cortex or wherever your brain has that abyss,
is where you shed your insecure thoughts, your masks, and your Instagram filters,
and there you will find yourself all alone with your actual thoughts that don't fit in the virtual world,
because you are no longer special, no longer significant, no longer you,
and the only part of your existence that truly belongs to you is that reality.
So I am logging out
with the hope that I will come find you in your abyss,
with the hope that together we can find our analogue world,
where the sun rises in the east, sets in the west,
where the smell of the first rain, still brings a smile on your face,
where the wind and the tide, usher in good memories,
memories that we made,
memories that we lived,
memories that are etched in that middle ground,
the middle ground which once, was a happy place.